It was a great experience. I described it in an email to Friends and Family. Responses to my email were very positive - I was encouraged to "publish" it, and I got some fantastic compliments from Penn and Teller. The comments were rather personal, but one thing Teller said keeps haunting me. "It's all one show business." This from a guy who does the bullet catch as his "art".
Based on the above, I guess this email should have wider distribution. It will sit here. If it is found - fine. Read and enjoy. Starting next week, I'll return with the regular assortment of web sites. But - for the remainder of this week, you might enjoy the following:"
This is an odd post. I won't be at all offended if you simply delete it, or read a bit then delete it, or whatever. Just wanted to tell you about fireworks, now that I've learned a thing or two.
We're not talking sparklers - we are talking a full show - like any city puts on. How it works, etc. What happens when. All the hardware and logistics. If you have no interest (hate fireworks, like to see 'em but don't give a shit how they happen, etc) stop reading now.
OK, you've stayed so far. (I hope this email is as entertaining as the "publications" by my good friend Jeff - his long emails are always fun).
Every fireworks show is done by a contractor, usually working with a large company. Pyro Spectaculars was recently featured on the Discovery Channel on a special on fireworks - that's who put on my show.
You see, a guy at work has a license. He can run fireworks shows. Legal permit. He gets a contract from the suppliers of the stuff, gets a crew together, and they do the show. Every fireworks display you've seen is done like this.
How do you get your license? Do 10-15 shows as a VOLUNTEER, then enough people know you and will sign a paper saying that you know your stuff, then you can get a license and make pretty bangs.
Well, I have one show under my belt. Jim, at work, said he had a show, and I volunteered. Should have been about 8 hours work one day, then another 8. Not so, as you'll see. Anyway - the city of San Ramon is gonna see fireworks made by US.
We are scheduled to start at 10:00 am on the third of July. Me, not being a morning person, is typically late for any meeting which involves an "AM" in the time.. I show up at 11:30am, and the truck is ALMOST unpacked. I say truck. a Ryder Truck. A BIG moving truck. Doing a fireworks show is like moving - twice, in two days, plus a lot more work. You've moved your house, so you know about unpacking a truck.
There is one little difference. The truck isn't packed with your stuff and Grandma's "Hummels". It's filled with wood, steel, PVC, and things which will explode.
They used to dig trenches. Now, you build boxes above ground.
The concept is simple - you have a shell which makes the fireworks. They are an odd shape. Imagine a coconut. That's the general size and shape. Imagine there is a little man in it, with a half dollar (not miniature). Say he is there in the coconut, and is standing on the half dollar. He jumps up and down, and the coconut distorts and so it is generally coconut shaped, but the very, very bottom looks like a half dollar, and it kind of morphs up to the coconut. That is a shell. Most of them, anyway.
There are several types, but they all work the same. There is a lifting charge, and then they go bang. That's how they go up - the lifting charge lifts them 600 feet or so, then they go bang.
You gotta aim them. You can't just set them on the ground, because you have no idea where they would go. You use mortars. Mortars come in different diameters: 3 in, 4 in, 5 in, 6 in, and 8 in is what we had. All but the 8 inch were PVC pipe with cork at the bottom. 8 inch was HEAVY steel. Put the shell in, ignite, lifting charge lifts it, then it goes "bang" and makes color.
Back to the boxes. Troughs. Not trenches, dug in. You take a big board - 8 foot by 3 foot. Take two of them, and stand them up on the long side. Add a 3 foot by 3 foot end, and you have a box, with no top and no bottom. Reinforce with steel bars. Build 15 or so. You are done with step one.
Step two - you put in the guns. The mortars. The PVC tubes with cork in the bottom. Stand them in the troughs you just built. The order is determined by the overall plan - cue 1 through 3 are racks. Cue 4 is a 4 inch shell - put a 4 inch gun in the box. Cue 5 is a 6 inch, and a 4 inch. Put them in the trough. Do this for 300 cues. You did it perfectly, but when you check there are errors. After than, someone else checks, and there are STILL errors. OK, you muddle through somehow.
Oh - yes. Did I tell you it's 80 degrees out, little wind, and you are in a field with no shade?
Step three - fill the troughs with sand. Lotsa sand. Have a dude in a bobcat loading sand in, but keep it out of the guns, thank you. Pack the sand, by hand. Gloves are nice, at first. But as they get wet, and caked with sand, you wonder.
During some "dead time", you've build racks. Racks are sets of guns. OK, image a pallet - one of those wood thingies at the bottom of a 6 foot stack of toilet paper at Costco. Stand it on end, and shove in some PVC pipe as mortars. That's part of a rack. Grab 3, or 4. all standing on end. Flare them out slightly so stuff goes different directions, and on each edge nail a board, to keep them in place. You've made racks. In this show, they are used for the start, and the finale, where you are throwing tons of stuff in the air.
End of day one.
Day two - you ache from carrying, building, and playing with sand. The sun has found those areas you forgot to put sunscreen on. You start by putting on rails. Long boards, with electrical connections on them.
Next, you place the shells where they belong. Since the little man inside has pushed them out of round, the will lay, on their sides, on the guns. You do this so you can see all of the shells, where they go, and make sure everything is right. Things generally are. The company supplying the stuff is impressive - exactly enough guns, racks, shells, boards, steel bars - you name it. You go to Sears, and buy a barbecue, and you get a ZILLION extra pieces of hardware. Tons of extra screws, nuts and bolts, washers, etc. Why? Because they are confused, and screw up often. I guess when you deal with explosives, you pay more attention, because even though we are talking 800+ blasts, everything is accurate - to the unit. You marvel at the skills and abilities of the warehouse, as you drink your 30th bottled water (never needing to pee in the hot, desert-like field). But I digress....
Ok, you have PVC tubes, cork in the bottom and you're resting shells on top. The shells all have fuses, and wires. The wires take an electrical charge, heat up a squib, which blows up (mini explosion) lighting a fuse which sets off the lift charge, and the in air explosion as well. All shells have warnings about how they should only be handled by people with the knowledge of Moses, the insightful reflection of Sherlock Holmes, and the experience and steady hands of a surgeon, but you ignore that. You've never done this before, but it's ok.
Most shells are ready to be lowered into the guns by the wire. You lower them down, take the wire and attack it to terminals on the rail. Don't cross them - an earlier shell leaving the mortar might pull out the wires of a later shell, which would cause it to fail to work. It reminds you of one of those frustrating puzzles - metal, ropes, and rings and balls. Get the rope off the puzzle. Not easy.
Oh, yes. The shells. Some are wrapped in plastic. When you open them, you get a good, strong whiff of gunpowder. Flashback to the shooting range, or basement, whichever applies.
Most shells are lowered by the wires used to set them off. Except the 8 inch shells. These bad boys have wires, but an extra ROPE, since they are so heavy, to lower them with. Big boys.
OK- every tube has a shell on it. Time to "drop shells". In the cryptic world of fireworks, this really means dropping the shells down the guns., and hooking the wires to terminals on the rails. Over and over you lower the shells into the guns, strip the wires, and connect them to the rack.
Now, you are well aware that any of these would probably kill you. So you be safe. No smoking around the fireworks. Never look down a tube after the shell is dropped. Keep your mitts away from them as well, since you value your mitts.
No fear, though. Funny. Being exhausted from the day before is probably a factor.
Shells are dropped, and the wires connected. For hours. Hours.
Finally all shells are dropped. Are you done? No. It's aluminum foil time (quick note - send me an email if you've actually read this far. I'll love you for it). You see, if a spark from shell 34 falls on shell 87, it might detonate early. No good. So, you put aluminum foil over each charge. Hmmmm, sandwiches. All that foil makes you drool. Not really - it's hot, dry, and you have NO extra bodily fluids at this point.
Now you run cables from the racks to the big board. The board has a bunch of holes in it, and a probe. Probe touches the contact, and a shell launches.
You make sure everything is correct before showtime. Continuity check, is the technical term. You see, it takes 12 Volts to fire a firework (is there a single for fireworks?). For the continuity check, you send a few millivolts around, and see if everything is properly connected. Dangerous? Well, one might go, in theory, so you clear the area. Continuity check shows some problems, so you rewire, clean contacts, etc until it all works. Do the check, tweak, check, tweak, etc. Iterative. Clearing the area each time. Finally, you are ready for showtime.
Background - all over the city, people are finding shady spots and making picnics. All in preparation for the show. YOUR show. Pressure is on. If the show doesn't go, you know they will tear you to limb from limb on the altar of Thomas Jefferson, or something.
Now, the site is dangerous. You've got a bunch of gunpowder wired to electricity, and idiots walking around. Not the crew. You've been playing with shells for long enough you are comfortable, and understand fully well that at any moment it could all go up. You could get hurt, or die. Still - you want to be there when the show starts, so you risk life and limb.
But these other guys? The fire Marshall is there, occasionally asking questions and talking about last years show. There are firemen there, with two trucks, ready to wet that dry field if a fire starts. Not if- I should say "when." Chevron security is there (we're using their field), some ham radio dude is there "helping." Some guy from the city council is there. Everyone, but you, has walkie talkies. These must be custom ones, with EXTRA LOUD speakers. You continually ask them to "lower the volume, or go."
15 minutes before the show. Conference call for the operator, Jim. 3 sites are doing the show in parallel - to music played over a local station. We hear Pleasanton is having to cancel the show, since some Carney at the county fair got pissed about a stuffed animal and started shooting people. 10 shot, countless injured in the panic from the shooting. They will not have fireworks - too many helicopters in the sky, etc. Oddly, from your exhaustion from putting this show together, you don't sweat the 10 shot by the crazed gunman, you feel for the crew that sweated blood for two days with no show. They have to tear it down; all work for nothing.
Your city is on. Showtime. Music starts, and Jim starts setting off the fireworks.
You have a strange angle. You are 100% underneath. You can't see what others see - your view is special. Nothing rises and falls. They all move, explode, and go out. You can't tell up from down - everything is out.
You watch, transfixed, for many minutes. You look around.
There are 5 - count 'em - FIVE fires in the fiend. Fire truck running around. A bush burns - the biblical significance is not lost on you.
Each shell is a "thump........BANG" as they leave the mortars. You feel the 8 inch shell hit your chest. OK, you've been wearing earplugs, but you pull them out. You then hear the crowd OOOOOOOHing and AAAAAAAHing.
After about 20 minutes, the finale starts. All those racks throw stuff up in the sky, almost at once. The crowd cheers. You hear a loud cheer, and realize it is yourself screaming.
The show is over. You are exhausted. Cheers echo in your ears, and you "high five" your buddies.
Next comes 30 minutes of waiting. Be sure everything is out.
You then check each mortar. Not by looking into it - you have a stick, and poke in the tube to see if it is empty. Everything you've built over 2 days needs to be broken down, carefully stacked on the truck, and trundled off.
The day ends at 3:00 am, again.
You're hot, sweaty, exhausted, and looking forward to the next time you can do it.
It's in your blood. It ain't the money - you're working - HARD - for free. It's seeing them go bang, and hearing the crowd. That's what it's all about.
A great experience, but it WILL NOT be your last.
This page, and all contents, are Copyright (C) 1998 by Michael A. Solinas.